After
by KateToast
Summary: The before doesn't matter anymore because, as his father said, they were moving on, and he thinks the euphoria that he is constantly feeling is part of how good it is to let go. Jack/Kate, post-"The End".


**A/N: **I do not own LOST, though I will miss it dearly. I also do not know what happened after they "moved on", but I like to think it could include this moment.

**XXX**

"I've missed you so much," she says again later, or maybe it is earlier, or possibly it is for the first time; he isn't sure, time is not a factor any more, but he doesn't care. As long as she keeps holding his hand and leaning into him the way she is.

"I missed _you_," he answers, the structure of his words an echo of declarations made in the past (he likes to think of his time prior to this bliss as _before_) when the world was crumbling and he had to fix it. Finally, he _fixed_ something and it stuck, and the payoff was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen or felt in any life.

He had done it for her. For her, and his half-sister, and his nephew, and the friends both gone and still living that had become so much like family, all thanks to a devastating plane crash onto an unassumingly disastrous island. It was worth it, and being greeted by so many of those who had changed his entire life, having the chance to just be _peaceful_ and _joyful_ with people who had once been allies and adversaries was breathtaking.

There is so much he wants to say to her. He wants to apologize, to explain, to tell her he loves her over and over again until forever runs its course. He wants to thank her for altering his whole universe when she stitched him up on the beach and he told her of counting to five, and for the countless moments following that inextricably compelled them to each other.

He wants to discuss each and every detail of their lives, wants to hear about her childhood and her mother and everything that happened to her _after_ (he is so sure she lived a happy, full life after she left the island for the second, final time, and it makes a warmth spread all over because that is why he did what he did).

The funny thing is, they don't need to say any of those things. Here, in this _somewhere_ or _noplace_ that is absolutely perfect, he knows. He knows it all, just by the touch of her hand in his. And he can tell that she knows as well, knows the mistakes he made, the regrets he had, the ups and downs he experienced, and just how much she meant – _means_ – to him. And she still loves him for all of that and more. The feeling of unconditional love in his youth probably would have made him a different man by the time of their island adventure, but then maybe he _had_ to be the person he was so that they could help each other grow into the people they became.

The _before_ doesn't matter anymore because, as his father said, they were moving on, and he thinks the euphoria that he is constantly feeling is part of how good it is to let go.

"Kate…" he begins to say, his smile so genuine and relaxed, a smile he does not remember having on the island, before the island, before _this_. There are no burdens or emergencies, there is nothing more to fix. It is so good to finally have clarity.

There is no need for him to finish his thought. She is grinning; her eyes crinkled in an adorable way, reminding him of the times they lightly flirted on the beach, or when she watched him rock Aaron to sleep late at night. He is so glad there are no longer reasons for her to cry.

She touches her perfect hand to his cheek, and it feels even more soothing than it ever did before. "Jack," she replies gently, almost slyly, like when she approached him at the concert hours, minutes, days, seconds ago. But he's in on the secret this time, doesn't understand how he could _not_ remember this woman, but it is inconsequential at this point anyway.

"What should we do now?" he wonders, his body light and his mind open. This moment between them seems endless and yet so quick, but he knows that is how it works here.

Her answer is so simple that he thinks he already had it. "Be together," she says kindly, her eyes flashing with so many emotions he can now easily identify, no mystery behind them: relief, excitement, humor, pride, _love_. And it is all for him, for them.

He nods, his smile growing to the point that if this were _before_, his face would probably be aching. He's chuckling, and it feels amazing to be with her, to know his closest friends are right beside him at every turn, everyone so free from the complicated entanglements of the past.

"Well all right then," he agrees, taking her hand.

**XXX**


End file.
